The Secrets of Silver
by Lrenn
Summary: Katherine, daughter of the king, isn't who she thinks she is, and her family's secret is one that could destroy all she loves and more...
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Warren gazed down at his sleeping wife, wiping beads of sweat from her forehead with a cool cloth. His eyes filled with tears as he turned to watch his newborn baby girls. Anguish covered him like a thick wool blanket in summer, suffocating, drowning out a would-be spark of joy. His wife had drifted off into unconsciousness soon after the second child was born. Only Warren and the midwife would know of what would soon take place.

Doubt seized his mine. He couldn't go through with it, not with his own flesh and blood! Then, stories and rumors filled his mind. Horrible tales raced across his thoughts, reminding him of families who had let both twins survive. Rich families became desolately poor or one by one a poor family would die slow and painful deaths. All, except the twin who should never have been allowed to live.

"Warren?"

He turned to the midwife. Rakel held out a daughter to him, wrapped lightly in a pink gauze blanket. He smiled as she grasped his thumb in her tiny hands. He motioned for the midwife to finish what needed to be done, unable to speak. She hesitated.

"Sir, don't ya wanna see 'er?" She held out the second child, the frailer of the two girls. Her silky pale skin was stark white against the fabric of the dark blanket. Warren's throat closed, tears spilled from his eyes.

"Take her to the garden, Rakel. I don't ever want to see her again." He turned his face away. "She is dead to me."

Rakel gasped at his words as he turned his back to her, sitting in the chair next to his wife. She knew of the rumors, and had never believed them. To let your own child die, she couldn't fathom even the slightest concept. She held the child close to her as angry tears slid down her cheeks. Leaving the man whispering to his wife, she walked out of into the darkness of the night.

She followed the stone path to the garden. Sobbing, she placed the babe on the soil in front of her when she kneeled. She dug a shallow grave, just below the rose bushes. Her hands shook violently. Staring at the black grave, she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," in gasping breaths. Pushing the soil over the hole with her foot, she ran sobbing into the night.

* * *

His Imperial Highness, Crown Prince Cyrus Renalde, Head of House Dulathe, Duke of the Seven Clovers, Guardian of the North Kingdom, Heir Apparent to King Dominic and Queen Guinevere of Ethane stared up at the tiny sliver of a silver moon that played hide-and-seek with dark feathery clouds. He rubbed his red-rimmed eyes and forced down the anguish that threatened to overwhelm his future.

He had everything in the world, and yet one thing was missing, something he could never attain – a child. For ten years, he and his wife had tried to produce an heir to the kingdom. However, it seemed it was not meant to be. Cyrus sighed. He wanted to be a father more than anything. He loved Lydia with his entire being, even with the part of his heart that yearned for a child to call his own.

No children meant no heir, the end of his line, the end of his father's line.

He rested his hands on the low stone wall fencing in the roof of his private escape Set deep in the forest bordering the palace village of Thohone, no one knew of this place but himself, his wife, and his guard. He glared down at the gravely dirt and barren gardens. Anger at life and at himself washed over him.

A sudden movement in the shadows caught his eye. A black figure, illuminated for a moment by the moonbeams, raced across a pathway to disappear once again from sight. Fear coursed through his veins, visions of assassins sword-fighting in his head.

"Brandon." His guard stepped from the shadows to stand beside him. Cyrus pointed to where he'd seen the figure. The guard nodded and moved away as silently as he'd come. Cyrus glanced back down. The figure didn't reappear. He strained for a glimpse of the stranger, but whoever it was, he had vanished.

"Your Highness." Cyrus turned. Brandon stood in the doorway to the roof, his voice shaky.

"Yes? Is everything all right?" Cyrus placed a hand on Brandon's arm.

"Yes, sir. Follow me."

At the bottom of the stairs, beneath the doorposts, hidden in the shadows, lay a black bundle. Cyrus bent to pick it up and nearly dropped it when he realized it was a baby. The babe was a melting softness against Cyrus' thoughts of despair a moment ago. The baby's fine white skin glowed in the moonlight, obliterating all other objects from his line of vision. He pushed back the thick black blanket. It was a girl, a brand new baby girl. Blood and tissue from the birthing still clung to the baby's skin. Her hands clenched in tiny angry fists. The girl began to cry at the absence of her warm cocoon.

Cyrus stood still, watching, waiting, afraid. After a moment, she opened her eyes, and stopped crying as she gazed at Cyrus. He stared back, amazed. The child had eyes as bright as the moon. Eyes the color of freshly melted silver.

"Brandon, let's head back to the palace." Cyrus rewrapped the child and tucked her against his chest. Brandon covered his bewildered master with a cloak, a heavy barrier against the night's chill.

"Kitty."

Brandon leaned in to hear better. "I beg your pardon, my lord?"

"Katherine," Cyrus said louder. He held up a crinkled piece of paper he'd found tucked underneath the little girl. "Her name is Katherine. The woman who wrote this called her Kitty. It says so right here."

Brandon watched him cradle the tiny bundle in his arms. Awe etched itself across the Prince's features as he gazed at the girl's perfectly tiny nose, pouting lips, and half-closed silver eyes.

"Let's get her home, my lord. The night is cold and she is just born."

Cyrus nodded, his eyes still riveted on Katherine's pale face. "Such a long name for so tiny a child." He let Brandon lead him into the night, to a carriage hidden by the darkness. Lulled by the gentle sway of the carriage and the quiet chirping of grasshoppers the baby fell asleep.

Cyrus pulled back the blanket covering her head. Downy chocolate-colored hair covered her head. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, inhaling her sweet baby scent. Lydia was going to be thrilled.

* * *

"A baby! Are you crazy!" Lydia backed away from the creature in her husband's arms. She pushed her hands in front of her, waving them emphatically as though to ward off the depravity of the young one.

"Lydia!"  
"No, Cyrus! It's not ours!" Her blue eyes widened, bright and wild stars in her flushed face. "Its parents didn't want it! They left it to die!" She glared at him, pointing an accusatory finger at the girl. "There must be something wrong with it. Take it back!" Her voice shrilled, waking Katherine. Cyrus gaped at his wife, speechless.

He shook himself out of his trance at terrified cries of his self-proclaimed daughter. He sank down on a comfortable sofa, soothing her. Lydia sat down hard across from Cyrus, leaning her head in her hands. Her eyes filled with tears and she covered her womb with her hands.

She couldn't have children. The past ten years had made that painfully obvious with the lack of an heir. He hadn't ever said anything about it, but Lydia knew the absence of a child shattered his dreams of carrying on his line. The ling of King Dominic would end with Cyrus.

She glanced at the little girl snuggling closer to her husband. The girl's cried pierced her mother's heart, a part of her she'd labeled as long dead. Cyrus' soft murmurings melted the ice around her heart.

She so wanted him to be a father.

No! The child was a monster.

Why? Can't you see she's hungry?

Her own parents didn't want her!

So you're just going let her die? You'll kill her!

Her heart's question stilled her fizzing nerves. Kill? Kill the child? A helpless, innocent child?

She sat across from Cyrus, her thoughts waging war against each other. She reached out and moved the cloth from the girl. Lydia let out a sob. She was so tiny and frail, and it broke Lydia's heart to watch her chest as it heaved with the screams of a newborn. Cyrus held out the baby to Lydia, but his wife shrunk back, her hand going to her throat. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she wondered what her own daughter might have looked like.

In a sudden instant, something in her heart broke. It didn't matter that this little girl wasn't her own. The child needed a mother, a father, a family. And Lydia could give her one.

"Oh, baby," she gasped in a broken whisper. She took the girl from Cyrus and cradled her, murmuring softly. The baby stopped crying, her bright silver eyes gazing up at the new mother. Cyrus smiled and went to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Come, love. It'll be dawn soon, and I wager the little one has yet to eat anything. Let's feed her and get some rest." Cyrus bent and wiped the tears from his wife's cheeks. He kissed her and let her to their quarters.

* * *

Rakel wiped away rain and tears dripping down her face as she walked slowly back to Warren's cottage. She heaved a breath, trying to quiet the sobs wracking her body. Kitty was safe. Rakel had almost laughed aloud when she recognized the insignia on the side of the carriage that had taken the girl away. The man who had rescued Kitty was the Heir to the throne himself.

Now, Rakel did laugh.

She let herself back into Warren's cottage.

"Is it done, Rakel?"

The woman shook the rain from her cloak, before answering with an angry, "Yes." She had no patience for a man who sent his own daughter to be buried alive.

Warren ventured closer and in a harsh whisper said, "Rose believes the second child to 'ave died just after birth o' natural causes. You understand I wanna keep it that way."

Rakel glared at him. Curbing her temper, she lowered her voice to a whisper to hide her anger, "Go lay down, Warren. I'll look after yer wife and daughter from 'ere."


	2. Chapter One

**Yeah so this is the real first chapter...i'm sorry i loaded the second chapter twice...i didn't even notice...why didn't anyone say anything!!! lol ...anyway...here ya go... **

**The Secrets of Silver**

**Nineteen Years Later**

**Chapter One**

She loved it when the sun woke. Faint rays of light glittered in, barely lighting the way for the cloaked young woman walking silently through the palace halls. Jeweled slippers clinked softly together and padded quickly through a rotting wooden doorway at the foot of a favorite tower.

A slight breeze, tickled with the glitter of a new morning, rustled the chocolate-colored wisps of hair peeking out from behind the hood of her cloak. She didn't bother shying from the walls, grim with disrepair and slick with grime. She'd taken this path many a morning. What waited at the top was worth being surrounded by filth.

At last she came to a heavy locked wooden door, rotting away in places from disuse and unkind weather. She revealed a brass key from a hidden pocket and burst through.

Golden sunrays sprinkled down from the mountains to the east, illuminating the gold and copper rooftops for the palace domes and pointed towers of the castles of the lesser lords that spread out across the valley. Their plantations stretched to the north as far as she could see. The valley stretched down into the smaller, yet equally extravagant rooftops of the artisans. The homes of the poorer merchants and shopkeepers dotted the valley to the south and the peasant farms stretched toward the horizon, meeting with the glow of the rising sun.

The Crysterian Sea to the west was painted red as the glorious sun raised his ever-bright fingers to kiss the clouds dotting the blood red and periwinkle sky. A heavenly glow settled over the capital city of Ethane. She pushed the heavy cloak off of her shoulders, draping it over the side of the tower stone rail. She glanced away from the splendor of her city, to stare out at the open ocean.

Oh, yes she was happy here. The sights were magnificent. The people were gentile. The benefits were spectacular. Her father was king of all Ethane and someday the crown would be passed onto her. If only she wanted it.

Katherine, Crown Princess of Ethane, sighed, staring out over the sea that lapped viciously against the cliff that held the royal palace. What lay beyond the sea? Boats of all sizes ventured out every day, each coming back with fabulous tales of places beyond. Sure, Katherine knew her father's kingdom. But she knew next to nothing of the surrounding countries of Haren, Trojia, Orithri, and Siru other than what her private tutors had taught her.

The wind whipped at the loose tendrils of honey-colored hair that slipped loose from its informal headdress. Simply put, she wanted to see the world. She wanted to experience a world where people didn't glance her way, a world where she was invisible, a world that didn't exist. If only…

Movement caught her eye. After a moment of instinctive fear, she laughed aloud. "Jonathan, must hide? There is no danger here."

Her guard, her best friend, emerged from a gap between two stone statues where the sun had yet to touch. He grinned and went to stand beside her. "You know, Kit, the most beautiful of creations," he gestured toward the sunrise, "obtains even greater beauty when observed beside a friend." He winked at her.

She slapped his arm playfully. "You need to stop listening to those professors Father brings in for me. They don't teach me a thing, but it seems as if all that," she waved her hands, "hogwash is going straight to your head."

Jonathan laughed. "Well, it is a good thing he does hire those professors and philosophers, or else I would never learn something."

Katherine wrinkled her nose. "Well at least someone is learning something." Quickly, she searched for a change of subject. "Are you coming with us when we travel south, or will you…" She laughed at herself. "Never mind. You would think that after five years of service I would know that you never went anywhere I didn't go."

"You've learned the ways of my trade well, Kit."

Katherine smiled at the use of the old nickname. Jonathan, twenty-one, had been one of her guards for the past five years. Most of those under her father's employ received new positions every few years or so. Katherine had requested that Jonathan stay on her staff. The two had formed a sort of friendship, and maybe it was selfishness, but Katherine didn't think she could bear to part with her friend. He went with her wherever she went, rarely leaving her side.

She bit her lip and glanced back over the ocean. She didn't even know it Jonathan had a family of his own. He was with her so often, she had never bothered to ask. In truth, she'd never even thought to ask. Katherine blushed, shame washing over her. Some friend she was.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? Such raw beauty?"

Jonathan's rich, deep voice, cut through her thoughts. Fighting back her embarrassment, she determined then and there that she would strive to be the friend to Jonathan that he had always been to her.

"Are you a poet, Jonathan? Or do you wish to become one?" she asked with forced cheerfulness.

He looked at her, his eyes serious. "You have very pretty eyes," he remarked causally, although for some reason, Katherine thought she heard more than just a friendly compliment in his voice.

She blushed. "They're only pretty because they are unusual." She riveted her silver gaze on the horizon. Jonathan took her chin in his calloused palm and pulled her gaze to his. "No, they are beautiful." His face filled with wonder. Then, just as suddenly, he turned away and asked, "Would you like to go down to breakfast?" He even chuckled.

Katherine frowned and nodded, retrieving her cloak. This morning hadn't turned out as she had hoped. Without uttering another word, she walked away and back down the winding tower stair well.

Jonathan lingered a moment longer. His gaze reflected nothing of his thoughts, except for a momentary frown before hurrying to follow the princess.

"Papa!" Katherine ran to Cyrus. She was surprised to find him in the family dining room. His three-day sojourn to the Crystal City had been extended to an unknown number of days. To Katherine it seemed as if he'd been gone an eternity. Three weeks had passed without any word from the father and husband. Katherine and her mother had sorely missed the warmth and presence with which Cyrus filled their palace home. Her mother, Lydia had done her best to fill that void, but Lydia wasn't Cyrus.

"How was your trip?"

The King of Ethane leaned down and kissed her on the nose. "Without you, my daughter, unbearably boring and extremely dull! But it was beautiful! The fair and parades, life! I wish you could have seen it!"

Katherine threw her arms around his neck and Cyrus enveloped her in a severely missed embrace. Releasing him, she sobered. "Mother told me there was a battle. We didn't know how many survived." The unspoken concern in her eyes led Cyrus to kiss her forehead.

"I'm quite all right, Kit." He took her by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. "Nothing could have kept me away."

Jonathan stepped back into the shadows, unwilling to intrude, although he feared it was too late. Cyrus glanced up. Jonathan bowed with well-deserved respect. "Sire."

A grin lit the king's face as he regarded the son of his chief of security. "Jonathan. Well met. I see you've succeeded in keeping this young one out of trouble."

Jonathan nodded gravely. "No more than usual, sire."

Royalty laughed. The king held out his hand and guard and king shook hands warmly, as old friends. "All is well, I see?"

Jonathan nodded. "It has been a beautiful morning, sire." He met Katherine's gaze and she smiled. It seemed the incident in the tower this morning was well forgotten.

An older man in his late fifties, tall and stately, entered the room. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward. Bowing even lower than Jonathan had, he declared, "My Lord, my Lady, Her Majesty is waiting for you in the east parlor. She had breakfast waiting." He paused. "it is good to see you, Sire."

"As it is to see you, Master Noland. Please tell my wife that I, accompanied by my daughter, will arrive shortly."

Noland bowed and went on his way.

Cyrus laced an arm around Katherine's shoulders. "Come, let us not keep your mother waiting."

Jonathan watched them go, feeling a foreign pang in his chest. Pushing it aside, he followed, slipping into the shadows.

Breakfast finished when Cyrus stood, bidding farewell to his family. He apologized for an early start, but the Ambassador from Haren was to arrive any day now, and preparations for his arrival were lagging. The king kissed his family good-bye, giving Katherine a promise he'd go riding with her that evening.

Katherine, herself, also kissed her mother good-bye, declaring her desire to walk through the gardens before the summer day became to stifling hot. Lydia conceded, nodding briefly to Jonathan who stood in shadows.

It took some maneuvering, but Katherine managed to avoid the noblemen and women who had her same idea. A subtle corner of the gardens, enclosed in rose bushes, provided the ideal place of privacy she craved. She needed to think.

Jonathan had been acting so strangely as of late. He'd suddenly taken to picking fresh flowers and handing them to her when they were alone. Not that often, but it happened. Just days ago, he'd asked to go for a walk with her. At first she hadn't thought anything of it and was relieved at the thought of a break from her lessons. But he hadn't simply walked with her. They had strolled! Like a courting couple.

Katherine sighed, playing with the roses that spread in full bloom. A week ago, Jonathan had taken her to her tower just after moonrise and together they had watched the stars and spoken of unimportant things. It wasn't an unusual occurrence. Many a night or day Katherine could be found talking to Jonathan atop her tower. However, that time, Jonathan never once removed his hand from her back. Or her arm. Or her hand. Not that she minded.

Katherine shook her head. She'd rather not think about where her thoughts may lead her. It may very well ruin a perfectly good friendship. A thought hit her and she turned, nearly bumping into her friend. She cocked a brow.

"Do you have lady, Jonathan?"

His brown eyes widened in surprise. "Why do you ask?"

Katherine shrugged. "I don't know. I've never heard you speak of anyone, not even of friends. I fear I've been quite selfish. I mean, I've never even thought to ask."

Jonathan laughed.

She glared at him in false anger. "Are you mocking me?"  
Jonathan cleared his throat, but couldn't hold back his chuckle as he said, "I'd be much too afraid to mock you, Kit. Life knows what you'd do to me." He winked at her.

Katherine bit back a smile. "So, there's no lady?"

He shook his head. "No lady," he said simply. They walked in silence for a moment.

"Why not?"

Jonathan glanced at her. "Why the sudden interest?"

She sighed. "I don't know," she said, but suddenly she didn't want to know. What if there was a lady? Something akin to jealousy fluttered in her heart. She brushed the feeling aside. She was being irrational.

"There is no lady. I'm just a simple bachelor, serving my country and my friend," he looked pointedly at her. Katherine smiled, her heart warming.

She linked her arm through his, not caring if it was improper for a princess of Ethane. He was her friend, and titles aside, that was all she wanted. Really.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The pair walked through the gardens until the sun was high in the afternoon sky. They passed a few friends, stopping occasionally for a casual talk. As always, Jonathan hung back, ignoring the slight sneers given him by the noblemen and women. Katherine ignored them as well, knowing their snubs hurt him and her acknowledgment of them would make it even worse. So she forced a smile and ended such conversations quickly.

Instead of walking back to her rooms for lunch as she usually did, she and Jonathan wandered idly through the maze of palace halls. They passed halls lined with paintings of foreign diplomats, of members of the royal family and famous landscapes across the globe. Tapestries old and new flung color across the walls as men and women of all stature worked or socialized steadily.

Her feet eventually led them to the Crown Hall. One use was given to this room, once a lifetime: monarchs were bound to the people and to the land in this room. Every other day over the years, the room was closed, the windows covered by heavy velvet curtains.

The pair entered, smelling honey, spices, and the stale air of lingering incense. Servants cleaned when necessary; however, this room did not sit high on a list of priorities. Despite the need to be cleaned, the dust-covered draperies gave the room a rich sense of importance. The dulling wood- and metalwork gleamed under the slits of sunlight that managed to slide through openings between the curtains. Tiny votive candles winked on the golden altar, where wrinkled high priests bound kings to the realms.

Katherine's steps echoed to the high cathedral ceiling as she walked around. Here were the wooden benches where the countless nobility had sat. She climbed to the stone risers that would seat the wealthier merchants and guild-masters until she reached the top row. She sighed and took a seat, leaning her head in her hands.

_"Why even associate with such as a mere guard, Your Highness?" Lady Daphne commented, looking down her nose at Jonathan not two yards away. _

_"Such is not befitting to your station, my lady." Count Dirhain bowed. _

_Katherine glared at them, hurting for her friend. Without giving them an answer, she stalked away, not glancing at Jonathan. Anger welled in her chest and she suddenly whirled. She walked back, stopping not an inch from the lord and lady. "Do not speak of Jonathan that way. That man is twice, no ten times, the person either of you will ever be!"_

_Clenching her teeth in fury, her silver eyes blazing, she left them in a huff. _

Katherine blinked away the memory as Jonathan sat down beside her. He glanced around the room, and then gave an almost imperceptible nod to the guards hidden around the room. He wasn't about to take any chances with security when he gave Katherine his full attention.

"Care to tell what's bothering you, Kit?"

She rubbed her forehead, struggling to hold in her temper. "It's not fair how the Count and Countess treated you this morning. It was rude." She stood, suddenly feeling confined and unbearably restless. She walked hurriedly to the draperies hanging from the walls. "I just…" She shook her head, unable to finish her thought.

She fingered the drapery, the cloth thick and smooth. "How do you stand it, Jonathan?"

Jonathan watched his charge pace back and forth, spouting off about the unfairness and prejudice he endured. Yeah, the intolerance of his fellow humans hurt occasionally. But it was understandable, at least to him. He wasn't even a noble. His father had been an apprentice blacksmith in the old king's reign before being recruited to serve Cyrus as a young boy. It had seemed only natural that the son of Cyrus's chief of security would take charge of the king's only child.

He smiled. Her anger and readiness to defend him touched him in a way he hadn't let himself consider before. He shook off the feeling and interrupted her soliloquy. "Kit, it doesn't bother me when men and women brush me off." He stood and went to her. "I know who my true friends are and I have friends and family who love me." He took her by the shoulders. She started to say something, but he continued. "Trust me, my life is not lacking for anything."

Katherine glared at him. "You're so busy making sure my life runs smoothly, you don't have time for a life of your own!"

Jonathan blinked, feeling a bit as though he'd been slapped. "Katherine," he began.

"No, Jonathan!" she cried. "You don't understand." She shook her head and shrugged his hands off.

He followed and grabbed her hand. Reluctantly, she let him lead to her a bench. He turned her toward him, but didn't force her to look at him. "What is this all about, Kit?"

A tear slid from beneath her closed lids. "First, Papa is caught in a battle that never should have happened! Mama is entering into marriage negotiations I don't want!" She stopped short of spilling her deepest fear. She bit her tongue; it would only embarrass them both.

Jonathan cracked a smile. "Oh, is that all?"

The humor was lost on Katherine, who glanced at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm so tired of it all, Jonathan." She glanced around. "More and more lately, my title has prevented me from being happy. The princess of Ethane can't do this, but must be this and must be sure to avoid these people and…where does Katherine fit into this equation? The Princess of Ethane is taking away the most important piece of me!"

She stood when Jonathan remained silent. She walked across the hall to a large tapestry that hung behind the altar. Each of the tapestries in the room was woven by the most expert hands in the world, but this one was magnificent. The hundreds of millions of threads told the story of Ethane's establishment under King Thomas VIII and his Queen Integrity untold centuries ago, before the Lost Ages. The pale green and purple threads mixed with red, yellow, blue, and white to enlighten its audience to the great Two Hundred Year War .between the would-be kingdom of Ethane and their eLydian neighbor, Haren. Katherine's gaze traveled over each one, mentally reciting the words her father had so often told her when she was girl and sat on his knee before bedtime.

"There is so much pressure," she whispered. "Too much…from, oh, everyone, even people I don't know." Tearing her gaze away from the woven picture, she met Jonathan gaze for gaze. "I'm not allowed to let them down." She paused. "I can't let them down."

Jonathan shook his head. "You could never let them down, Kit. You're simply imagining things." He stuttered over his words, unaccustomed to offering such advice to the Heir to the Throne.

"No, Jonathan, I'm not. I have no idea what to do."

He came up to her with a strangled laugh. "You can't help being royalty any more than you help the silver hue of your eyes." He chucked her lightly under the chin when she frowned. He matched her frown as the feel of her skin against his sent a jolt down his spine. "Don't fret. People fail and succeed and live and die and learn and grow every day. Don't sink down to Count What-ever-his-name's level. People like that will only drag you down with them."

Katherine gazed up at him. Her heart fluttered lightly as he met her gaze. He smiled – a brotherly smile – and her heart sank. "I'll try not to," she turned away, so he wouldn't see the blush that stole across her cheeks. She took a few steps away from him and suddenly whirled.

Her eyes lit up with mischief. "Let's trade places."

Jonathan burst out laughing. "You want me to play the princess?" he asked incredulously.

She laughed as well, the tension draining from her shoulders. "You mean you don't want to be fitted day and night for gowns you'll only wear once? Or play nice to foreign diplomats' sons so as to not cause a full scale war?"

They both laughed, harder than the joke warranted, but still, it felt good. Without touching her, Jonathan led the way out of the room. He swung the door wide to allow the princess to pass. The large door thudded into something, hard.

Katherine rounded the door and gasped. "Uncle Garret! Oh, my!" The man, brother to her father, lay sprawled on the floor, scarlet robes flung unceremoniously all over the place.

Jonathan raced to help the man to his feet. "Your Grace, please forgive me." He glanced at Katherine for help, but the girl stood off to the side, a hand to her mouth. Her silver gaze caught his and to his chagrin, he discovered she was struggling to hold in her laughter.

The man sputtered and coughed in his arms. Realizing who had helped him, he pushed Jonathan away. "You dare to touch a Duke!" he nearly bellowed, dark eyes blazing. "This is an outrage! In my day, the lower classes didn't even think about breathing near a nobleman!"

Jonathan blushed. "I apologize, your Grace. I was merely…"

Garret pushed him away. "I don't care what you were merely doing." He rounded on Katherine. "How could you, niece! You were brought up better than this! The princess of Ethane running around with some low class hooligan!" he cried indignantly.

Jonathan noticed Katherine's eyes blazing with anger a moment too late. "Uncle!" she cried. "Spare me the lecture," she practically hissed. "It wasn't Jonathan's fault! And if you weren't such a pig-faced, conceited, windbag of a man, you would have taken the time to see that!" She turned and raced down another hallway. Tears of anger burned in her eyes, but she was too angry to let them flow. Bursting onto a deserted balcony at the end of one of the halls, she clenched her fists, fighting the urge to smash something.

"Katherine." Jonathan's voice sounded behind her. She didn't turn. "Katherine, you shouldn't have been so rude to your uncle. No matter what he said about me. I'm not worth it," he scolded gently, taking advantage of her silence.

Her anger intensified until she could no longer keep from shouting, "Not worth it?! How can you say that? You mean everything to me! You're worse than Uncle Garret! I thought you would understand, not lecture me!" She pushed past him, running as fast as her long skirts allowed. She barely noticed people she bumped into. She didn't care. She was a princess, THE princess. She kept running, running until she reached the end of her family's private gardens.

She stopped just before the thick high stone wall that stood between her and her country. She sank to her knees and let the tears spill over. The sun sparkled overhead, mocking her. It must be near mid-afternoon, she thought dimly. Her favorite time of the day, and she couldn't even enjoy it for all the thoughts tumbling though her head and the tears blurring her vision.

She needed to be angry with her uncle, needed to yell and scream and bellow just this once. Besides, Garret had completely overreacted, while Jonathan barely reacted at all! Jonathan of all people should have understood. He was her best friend, at times her only true friend. If he didn't understand, than no one would.

Footsteps sounded behind her. She glanced up. Jonathan strode toward her. Katherine sighed, and wiped at her tears. She stood to face him, her eyes still angry.

"Kit."

Her heart squeezed tight, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't quite ready to get over her anger towards him and his submissiveness. "What do you want, Jonathan?" Her question was sharper than she'd intended, but she didn't take it back.

Jonathan winced. "I…uh…"

"Just answer the question." Belatedly, Katherine noticed her tone and regretted the question. She bit her lip. Once she got going, sometimes it was hard to stop.

"Katherine, what is wrong with you?" He glared at her. _Oh, so now he gets angry,_ she thought dimly. She turned and walked away from him. He caught her in one movement. He pulled her around to face him and gripped her shoulders in a vise-like grip. She struggled, but his next words chilled her to the bone.

"I never figured you for a selfish wench, princess, but you certainly are acting like one right now!"

Katherine's eyes widened, the words piercing her heart like daggers. She stopped struggling. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. His eyes blazed with anger and a disbelief that matched her own. He shook her once, and then let her go. She dropped her hands and stared at him. He might as well have slapped her.

She finally glanced away. No one had ever called her that. Most people wouldn't dare. Her own mother never called her anything worse than strong-minded. She licked her lips and wiped her eyes, before slowly turning and walking away. She left Jonathan staring after her, the sunlight forcing his frown of guilt and anger to deepen.

Jonathan glanced at his palms as she walked away. His hands burned where they had touched her. He had never touched her like that before. He felt as though he had hit her. His palms stung and tears sprang unexpectedly to his eyes. Oh, the look on her face as she had turned away from him.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

The sunrise was lonely the next morning for Katherine. She refused to leave her rooms for Jonathan was sure to follow her, resigned to waiting for Ebony to bring in her breakfast. She couldn't see the sunrise from her west-facing window. Resting her arm on the window ledge of her window seat, she clenched her fists, remembering the night before.

_"I never figured you for a selfish wench, princess, but you certainly are acting like one right now!"_

How dare him! She slammed her hand down on the sill. She was farthest thing from a selfish wench! She was a princess for goodness sake! She hugged her arms to herself. This morning in front of the mirror she could almost imagine bruises where his hands had touched her through the fabric of her clothing. But the bruises weren't on her skin. No, his words had hurt much more than his hands.

In a moment of insecurity, Katherine glanced around her, feeling the loss of Jonathan's presence. What if Jonathan was right? What if she was selfish? What if she was a wench? What an embarrassment she must be to her family! Why hadn't anyone ever told her?

No, he couldn't be right, she decided, turning back to the scene outside her window. He just couldn't be. Her father and mother had raised her right, not handing her over to a nursemaid, but handling her care and education themselves. She was King Cyrus's only daughter. Only day she would take up the crown, reign in her father's place.

She drew her mind away from that train of thought and glanced down at her night clothes. The silk settled softly on her skin, the silver swirled pattern dancing whenever she moved. The silk had traveled all the way from the Andorran Islands, across the sea. Such silk was considered exclusive to the wealthy.

She glanced up, looking around her room. Her four-poster canopy bed had been made for her when she was twelve. The luxurious purple and gold canopy swirled all the way to the floor, meeting the white marble tiles, pooling around the mahogany bedposts. She had discovered that dark purple ribbon, when used to tie back the curtains, added just the tight touch.

Her numerous gowns, of every fabric from velvet to silk to satin and spun gold, lay locked away in a large bureau that took up half of one wall and her jewelry lay behind a crystal glass cabinet. Her favorite coronets and priceless gems twinkled inside. A large gold vanity stood in one corner, surrounded by a rich crimson cloth for her to change behind. The white marble floor glistened and the walls were covered with beautifully hand-woven tapestries, painting, and dried flowers.

Was Jonathan right? Was she spoiled? She had always had anything she'd ever wanted. She had never been in need. But did that make her as terrible as he had made her out to be? A child who threw a tantrum whenever she didn't get her way?

She couldn't remember the last time she had whined or even cried when her parents couldn't give her what she wanted. Katherine frowned. No. She wasn't spoiled. She didn't care what Jonathan thought.

There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting her thoughts and she rose to answer it. In the doorway stood a young woman she didn't recognize. Her dark hair fell forward as she bowed low.

"Yes?" Katherine said.

The woman stayed bent. "I bring a message from King Cyrus." When Katherine didn't respond, she continued. "His Majesty requests that I attend Her Highness, as Her Highness's lady-in-waiting, Ebony is indisposed at the moment. His Majesty also requests that once Her Highness is dressed, that Her Highness join His Majesty for a stroll in the southeast gardens."

Katherine frowned, ignoring the woman's overuse of a royal jargon. The southeast gardens? No one went there. The place housed the orange orchards specifically used for the royal family, and was usually hidden from the view of the other guests. It bordered a cliff, making it very dangerous as well. Wondering where Jonathan was, she allowed the maid inside and proceeded to dress.

After dressing, she followed the woman, Tia, and walked demurely through the garden paths, her father's message ringing in her head. Why would her father want to meet her here?

She hadn't seen Jonathan all day. Usually, he was only one step behind her. Now, as she walked through the gardens, she wondered where he could be. Not that she wanted to see him, she thought, her heart racing with anger. She didn't worry, though, that she wasn't being followed closely. She was sure a whole contingent of guards hid throughout the gardens, ensuring her safety.

Still, without visible proof, she felt vulnerable. But she was too proud to apologize, too proud to return to the blanket of security she unwittingly needed at the moment.

She made her way through the stone paths that followed the maze of perfectly trimmed hedges and trees. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get Jonathan's words out of his head, the implications darkening her mood. She scowled at the cheerful chirping of bluebirds and the cardinals flying from tree to tree. She nearly kicked at the chipmunk that scurried across her path, and she wanted to scream at the eagle that blocked the warmth of the sun for but a moment.

Suddenly she stopped. She was acting just as Jonathan had described her. Like a spoiled kitchen maid! She was unhappy, so she expected everyone and everything around to be unhappy as well. Katherine rubbed her forehead, gritting her teeth. No more, she promised herself. No more! She was done. She knew how to be dignified. She knew how to keep her emotions in check. It was time she began using those skills.

She continued on her trek with renewed determination, forcing herself to admire the flowering bushes and breathe in the fragrances of the orange orchard that continued on down the hill.

Tia had gone on ahead and now stood at the bottom of the hill, observing a mother deer and two young fawns grazing amidst the wildflowers. She turned at the sound of Katherine's footsteps. Her face was filled with dismay, her shoulders shaking as tears ran down her cheeks. Katherine hurried forward.

"Tia…"

Tia wrung her hands, her eyes wide with fear."Oh, my lady! I'm sorry. They threatened to kill me. It's treason, I know, but…" Her frantic words were cut short as something hit her back. Before Katherine had a chance to consider her words, Tia slumped against her as she was hit with a second arrow. Katherine screamed. Yet another arrow hit Tia as another whizzed past Katherine's ear and the pair fell to the ground. Her heart raced in panic, unable to move as men painted in black and armed with crude spears and double-edged swords stepped from the shadows of the orchard to advance on her, their eyes glistening.

Katherine couldn't move for the fear that paralyzed her. Suddenly a large red blur flew into her line of vision. It placed itself in front of her, between her and the advancing army.

"Katherine, are you hurt?" The blur's voice was deadly cold.

"Jonathan?!" she cried.

"Are you hurt?" he bellowed.

"No, I-I'm not. But Tia…"

With a yell he threw himself at the nearest soldier. Katherine screamed again, too terrified to do anything else but cower. She struggled to free herself from under the dead woman. The blood from Ebony's wounds began to seep through her gown.

"Jonathan!" she screamed as three men moved toward her. They kicked Ebony's body away and grabbed Katherine under arms and began to pull her away. Six descended on Jonathan as he clamored to get to her. Four more moved in on him, barely enough to hold down his terrible strength, fueled by his fear of losing his princess.

"Jonathan!" She scratched and clawed and kicked with all her might at the men holding her captive. "Let go!" They didn't budge. She began to cry furious tears of helplessness when she realized she was getting nowhere and Jonathan was disappearing from view. "Let me go! Please!" she sobbed. She couldn't see Jonathan anymore.

The pulled her toward the forest that bordered the southeast section of the palace. She continued to scream for help, gasping for breath, until something hard slammed into the back of her head.

Everything went black.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Jonathan struggled to open his eyes. Somewhere light obliterated the darkness and fell across his face, jolting him from the darkness. He forced his eyes open, shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs, but the movement proved too much. He groaned as every vein in his body came alive as if his blood was fire itself. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he blinked hard several times before he tried to look around to get a grip on his surroundings. He lay on the ground, staring up at decaying, warped wood and metal bindings. The stench of old garbage reached his nose and he gagged. Ignoring his screaming muscles, he rolled to the side and retched.

Wiping his mouth with a torn sleeve he glanced around. He was in an alley somewhere, surrounding by dripping mold and animal carcasses. A woman screamed profanities, a child cried, a group of boys taunted a baying dog. He stood slowly, trying to clear his mind. Gripping his head in his hands he stumbled out of the alley and onto the street. A crippled man in a rotting tunic and no breeches stared up at Jonathan, glaring from his crouched perch in the doorway.

Jonathan sank to his knees, his mind whirlng. How had he gotten here? Pictures flew across his mind. Flashes black painted men, swords and arrows. Of screams. Of pain. Of Katherine.

Katherine!

He stumbled to his feet. They took her! But where? Why? Who? He rounded on the crippled man. "What day is it? Where am I?" he bellowed.

The old man laughed at him, a feeble coughing sound. "Oh, come off it. What's the use o' yellin' at a ole man like me?"

"Sir," Jonathan said through his teeth. "I am not in the mood to be trifled with. I pray you, answer the question."

The man only laughed again. "What are ya goin' t' do? Cut off me head?"

"Georgie, leave 'im alone." A stout and dirty woman opened the door behind the man and stood beside him. She looked Jonathan up and down, taking not of his ton and dirty palace uniform. With a dishtowel in her hand and both hands on her large hips, she whistled through her missing teeth. "'Tis Saturday, m'lord. The Princess celebrates her birthday today. Aren't y' goin'? You bein' one o' the King's Guards an' all?"  
Jonathan stared at her. Two days! Two days? He went numb. Katherine was gone! Pain pierced his chest as he prayed she was still alive. "Where am I? How do I get to the palace?"

George glanced up at the woman. "Loreli, don' be answerin' any mo' o' this man's ques'ions. We ain't got no time fo' this."

"An' where we goin'in such a hurry, Georgie? We ain't goin' nowhere!"

"Loreli! Don' you be getting' smart wit me!"

"Oh, an' what are ya gonna do about it? Jump up and chase me 'round 'till ya catch me?"

Jonathan turned and stalked off. He didn't have time for this! Quietly cursing his circumstances, he found help in a group of vivacious prostitutes lounging about in the warm sunshine. They pointed him in the direction of the palace, all the while making it clear they would prefer it if he stayed a 'wee bit longer'. He ignored them, undeterred. There was only one person on his mind – Katherine.

He was going to find her.

The sun was just about to set for the evening when he reached the palace. The streets leading to the royal palace were empty of what should have been a great celebration of Katherine's nineteenth birthday. No banners, no music, just average citizens going about their average lives. Jonathan wanted to scream at them. Didn't they care that their princess, the _heir to the throne_, was missing! Pushing through the pain in his chest and leg muscles, he sprinted up the last several meters to the palace.

He forced one foot in front of the other, struggling for breath, as he pushed himself up the steps and through the heavy silver-laden doors. Men and women, nobles and servants, scrambled to get out of his way. Shrieks of terror echoed in the great halls. The sound grated on Jonathan's nerves. He wished he could give them something to really scream about. Reaching the door to the Throne Hall, he didn't wait for a herald to signal his arrival. He strode up to the dais where Queen Lydia sat alone. He walked right up to her as the entire court gathering gasp.

He ignored them. He didn't care that Lydia could very well cut off his head for such a show of disrespect. His only thought was of Katherine.

"Your Majesty."

"I dare say I hope you have an explanation, sir." Her voice was ice cold. He glanced up, looking at her stare for stare. Other than the slight lines around her pressed lips and the anger flooding her blue eyes, there was no other indication of her feelings.

He nodded once. "May I request a private counsel? The situation is most dire."

Lydia opened her mouth as if to say something. Jonathan thought he saw her bottom lip tremble. Instead, Lydia clamped her mouth shut and nodded, indicating a door to her left. Jonathan didn't hesitate but hurried through the door, entering a room furnished with only a long table and several chairs. Artificial lighting gave the room an ominous feel as there were no windows to offer warm sunshine.

The door shut behind him suddenly, and he whirled. Lydia stood in the doorway, her hands at her side. Dimly, Jonathan admired her for showing such strength in the face of her daughter's kidnapping.

"I've sent for Cyrus. He'll be here shortly." She continued to stare at him, her very presence cold as stone.

Jonathan nodded and paced the room. A door on the other side of the room opened with a bang. "Why this urgent meeting?" Cyrus bellowed, crossing the room to stand but an inch from Jonathan. "I was in the middle of readying the fleet…"

Jonathan nearly pushed him away. "Your Majesty," he countered, interrupting his King for the first time in his life. "Katherine? Is she here?" Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. His heart pounded as he waited for Cyrus' answer, praying the king could answer to the positive.

"What? How could you…?" Cyrus glared at him. "Wait. Where were you when she disappeared?" He rounded on Jonathan. "You were supposed to be protecting her. Tell me - did you plot her kidnapping yourself?" Cyrus slammed his fist into Jonathan's jaw.

Jonathan fell backwards. Barely catching himself, he sank to his knees, pain radiating from his jaw. He put his hand there. Pulling it away, blood dotted his fingers.

"You'd better have a good explanation, boy, or I swear…"

"I was there!" Jonathan shouted. "I was there when she was taken!" Pain filled his chest as tears filled his eyes. "I – I tried to fight them off, but there were too many." His voice broke.

Cyrus towered over him. "I think you'd better explain everything."  
Unable to meet his king's eyes, Jonathan took a breath. "We had a fight, so I assigned another guard to her that morning. I needed to be alone. It was selfish of me, I know…"

"Get on with it!" Cyrus snapped.

Jonathan flinched. "When she was late to supper, I went looking for her. I found her in the orange orchards, screaming as she held a dead woman in her arms. Three or four arrows is what killed that poor woman, sir."

Lydia let out a cry, her stoic façade melting as she sank to the ground. Jonathan hurried on with his tale.

"Kit – er – Katherine was unharmed," he was quick to say. "Fifteen to twenty men surrounded her, all painted in black. I threw myself into the middle of it, putting myself between her and the men but I couldn't take on more than two of them. They were stronger than they let on." The tears that had filled his eyes overflowed down his cheeks as shame swept through his heart.

"I tried, Your Majesties." His voice broke again, and he bowed his head as the full significance of what had happened hit him. "I tried so hard."

There was a moment of silence before he continued. They carried her off to the east, but they could very well have changed directions. They left me in an alleyway, unconscious.

Cyrus, who had hurried to his wife as she fell, watched him with tear-filled eyes. He nodded. "I know you tried, Jonathan. And I thank you." Cyrus bowed his head, pressing his cheek to Lydia's forehead. She took a shuddering breath.

"We need to find her, Cyrus. She's never been outside the palace walls. What do those monsters want with her?" She leaned back, her eyes flashing with anger.

Cyrus stood, pulling himself to his full height. Lydia stood as well, clinging to him. "I've already started gathering forces, the cavalry to take the highlands, the Riders to search the forests. The fleet was sent out yesterday. I'll search every house and hill from here to the Badlands." He took Lydia's face in his hands, stroking her tears away with his thumbs. "I won't stop until I bring her home." He kissed her.

He glanced up at Jonathan. "You're with me." Jonathan pushed himself up off the floor. Taking in shuddering breaths, he bowed once to his queen and followed Cyrus from the room. If a battle was to be had on Katherine's behalf, Jonathan was more than ready.

_"I never figured you for a selfish wench, princess, but you certainly are acting like one right now!"_

His last words to her stung his conscience. He would find her. He would keep her safe. He had to.

"Do you trust me, Jonathan?"

Jonathan glanced at Cyrus and frowned. "Of course, my lord." Pain shot through his jaw as he spoke. He winced, rubbing his cheek.

"We need to find my daughter. But first, I must tell you something only Lydia, your father, Brandon, and I know." They walked through the dim palace halls quickly, ignoring anyone who crossed their path. Before Jonathan knew it, they had entered Cyrus' private chambers, quickly making their way to the study. Lighting candles, Cyrus indicated a chair beside the already roaring fireplace. "Please sit."

Jonathan obeyed, his confusion growing. What was so important that only three people in an entire kingdom would know about? A pinprick of fear jolted through him. There should be nothing Jonathan didn't know about the Royal family. One secret in the ranks could bring down an entire kingdom.

Cyrus sighed and sat across from him. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, he spoke. "Katherine is not my daughter."

"What?" The word was out of Jonathan's mouth before the thought registered.

Cyrus looked at him and for the first time, Jonathan noticed how blood-shot his green eyes were. "Katherine in not my daughter." At the still confused look on Jonathan's face, he continued. "Let me explain." He heaved a sigh. "Lydia and I tried for ten years to have a child of our own. But there was no heir. No child. I was angry, scared. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just hand over my kingdom to some nameless cousin who lived in the backwoods of _my_ country.

"So, I took one guard, your father, and rode to my hideaway. It was the dead of night and I was standing atop the balcony of the cottage, looking up at the stars and praying for a miracle." His voice wavered and he stopped to clear his throat. "I saw a shadow move in the trees and I froze. I watched in perfect silence as it crawled up to the doorstep and then backed away. Brandon went down to check and came back with a baby wrapped in the black cloth of death.

"The child was so tiny, so beautiful. She still had the birth blood covering her, and she was still damp, but so cold. She was crying, but she didn't make a sound. I held her, and Jonathan, her silver eyes looked up at me and I was lost. I saw the world in her eyes and I knew that I could give it to her." His voice broke then and a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He inhaled deeply before continuing.

"She came with a note." Cyrus stood and walked to a bookcase. Taking out several books from the shelves he revealed a small hidden door. Opening it, he removed a small stone box. He slid off the cover and pulled out a worn yellowed piece of parchment. He handed it to Jonathan. "Here. See if you can make anything of it."

Jonathan carefully peeled the paper open.

"Sir, or Mistress,

This child was meant to die. Her sister, her twin, is alive and. Alas, this child is the weaker of the two. Her father thought it best to dispose of her in the garden, but I could not. Murder, he asked of me. I couldn't.

I cannot take care of her, for I have seven children of my own. She needs a family, for her own has deserted her. Her name was to be Kitty, or Katherine, after the last queen of her people. The name means 'heroine' in language of her father, but a hero she is not. She is victim to the evils or rumors and superstitions. I pray you to choose another name, one that is not such a curse.

Midwife Rake."

Jonathan reread the letter several times before it registered completely. They were no closer to finding Katherine than they had been a moment ago. Instead, he noted,  
You didn't change her name."

Cyrus shook her head.

Jonathan sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "Who is this midwife?" He folded the letter carefully and handed it over.

Cyrus placed the letter back in it's stone box. "We don't know, and it's your job to find out."

Jonathan shook his head. "My lord…"  
"Jonathan, I know how much you care for Katherine. I know you love her as much as I do."

"Sir…"

"Let me finish." Jonathan backed off, silencing his protests. Cyrus continued. "I know you love her. It's evident every time you're in a room with her. I can see it written on your face, even now. Why do you think I postponed arranging a marriage for her?"

Jonathan stared at him, incredulous.

"I was hoping you would have realized it yourself by now, but it seems circumstances are far from under our control."

Jonathan glanced down at his hands. "My lord," he whispered. "I…" He closed his eyes. He did love her. He loved Katherine more than life itself. He glanced back up at Cyrus, recognizing the understanding in his eyes. He nodded once, knowing what he must do. "My Lord."


	6. Chapter Five

**The actual chapter one is up...i guess i accidentally uploaded chapter two twice...so if you wanna read chapter one...it's up in its proper place **

**Chapter Five**

Katherine woke screaming. Against the tightly knotted gag around her mouth, her cries were muffled, echoing mutely across the pitch black room. The edges of her mouth sawed at the gag. She tasted blood. Tears spilled over as fear engulfed her, her heart racing as thoughts as dark as night flooded her mind.

They were going to kill her. Ravage her. Worse! She had to get out of here. Where was Jonathan? The last thing she remembered…

She sobbed. They had killed Jonathan! She just knew it. What was she going to do without him? Who was going to save her? Despair reeked havoc on her heart and mind. She cried and cried, sobbing, her face flat against the cold dirt floor. She didn't care. Jonathan was dead, her father was never going to find her, and they were going to do who knows what to her.

She cried their names. "Jonathan! Papa!" The names brought on a new surge of tears.

"Shut up, wench!" someone bellowed from somewhere outside the room.

Katherine's heart squeezed with a fear so strong her sobs instantly quieted. She could hardly breathe. For the first time, she struggled to sit up, only to find her hands and feet tightly bound. She let out a moan as her heart sank deeper into hopelessness.

Seconds, minutes, hours. Katherine didn't know how much time passed in terrible consciousness. She longed for the unstable peace sleep had given her. A noise startled her. A lock being opened.

She screamed as a door creaked open, letting in thick streams of blinding sunlight. Someone grabbed her and pulled her to her feet.

"Get up, chit!" The voice was female. Daring to open her eyes, she looked up at her captor, squinting in the sunlight. The woman's face was hidden in shadow, but Katherine could feel the loathing in her touch.

"Who are you?" she spoke, before remembering the gag. The woman didn't respond and hurled her into the sunlight. Katherine stumbled and landed sprawled on the green mountain grass. The harsh morning air swirled around her and even thought the sun shone brightly, the brisk air chilled her to the bone.

Anger sparked a fire in her chest, burning away despair, burning away the helplessness. She was the Crown Princess of Ethane! She was not to be treated this way by anyone! She was the daughter of King Cyrus, and by God she would make him proud. She struggled to her feet, until she face the woman. She took a step forward, intent on showing the woman exactly what she thought of her.

One step and she flew backward as the woman's hand collided with the side of her face, sending her back to the ground. Gasping, she pushed herself back up and glared her captor full in the face, ignoring the burning pain her cheek.

Katherine froze, her eyes wide.

The woman wasn't really a woman at all, but a girl. She was thin, unnaturally so, hollow face, as though she hadn't seen a decent meal in months.

It was as if Katherine was staring into a mirror. The same straight nose, the same full lips, the same high cheekbones. They even shared the same shade of chocolate brown hair.

And her gaze was as silver Katherine's own. The girl bent toward Katherine and in one quick movement removed the gag from Katherine's mouth. In another second the bonds on her hands and feet were gone. It was all Katherine could do to massage her bruised wrists and ankles. Tenderly she wiped the dried blood from the corners of her mouth.

"Who are you?" she asked again. "I demand to know."

The girl smirked. "If I were you, Princess, I wouldn't be making any demands. You're not exactly in a position to bargain."

"Who are you?" Katherine put all her anger into the words.

"Come with me. I'll explain everything on the way." She held out a hand.

Katherine glared at that offered hand.

"Oh come off it," the girl sneered. "We only kept you in there to break you. So you wouldn't run away. Are you telling me you want to go back in that room?" She held up the bits of robe that had been used to hold Katherine. "These can go back on as easily as they came off."

Katherine lurched to her feet by herself, nearly tripping over the ragged edges of her once beautiful gown.

The girl beckoned. "Come on, then. I'll explain everything on the way. She grabbed Katherine's arm and swiftly walked into the nearby brush, leaving behind the room with no windows.

The mountain air was thin, and they had to stop several times to let Katherine catch her breath. She started at every scrape of a tree branch, the scurry of a woodland animal, the call of a bird. If it weren't for the girl, pulling her along, fear would have surely paralyzed her limbs, leaving her at the mercy of the forest.

"My name is Ashlea," the girl said after a mile or two. "I'm of the Q'opte Tribe, the mountain dwellers." She glanced back at Katherine. "Probably you've heard of us?"

Anger swelled. "I know you raid villages and murder women and children!" The words were out of Katherine's mouth before she could stop them. Ashlea whirled and raised her hand to slap her. Katherine flinched and raised her hands to ward off the blow. None came.

Ashlea's silver eyes glittered with fury. "That was a warning. I've killed for less that. I won't be so quick to stop my hand next time." She spit on the ground to show her disfavor. "There are penalties around her when a woman lies."

Katherine looked away, biting her tongue against the cruel words that formed on her lips. She hated Ashlea. Hated these mountains. They had killed Jonathan! Tears streamed down her cheeks as Ashlea propelled her forward.

"What is it you want from me, Ashlea?" Katherine's voice shook with false bravado. Her arm hurt terribly and her jeweled slippers were little comfort against the jagged mountain path.

Ashlea gave her a snide glance and kept waling.

Katherine tried again. "Can't we…"

"No! Be silent."

Katherine clenched her teeth, refusing to let another tear fall. She was not going to be weak. Not now. Not anymore.

Ashlea continued to pull her along for several more minutes. Finally, they stopped in a large clearing. Katherine stared in awe. Smoking campfires littered the forest floor, surrounded by a hundred or so crude tents. Amid the tents a hundred or so gaunt human beings went about their daily lives. Several women and children lay as still as death on pallets near the fires, their bones visible through their skin. The depravity of it all cut through Katherine's anger. Compassion hit her full in the face.

Slowly, the inhabitants stopped their work. One by one they looked over at Katherine and Ashlea as they entered the clearing. Ashlea nodded to several women, patted a child here and there. Katherine followed meekly, terrified by the hungry hopeless look in many of the mountain dwellers' eyes.

Ashlea stopped abruptly, kneeling down stroke a young boy's head of unruly black hair. She looked up, fixing her eyes on Katherine. "This is my little brother, Avery. He's almost twelve."

Katherine blanched. Twelve? She felt she might be sick. Malnourishment and slow starvation had stunted his growth. If Katherine had passed him on the street, she would have never guessed the boy was older than seven. She watched as Ashlea ruffled his hair, but Avery barely looked up. He rocked slightly back and forth, holding his stomach, not making a sound. Ashlea turned away, but not before Katherine caught the tears forming in her eyes.

Ashlea began to walk through the camp, greeting hollow faced women and chucking emaciated children under their chins. "We are a humble people, Your Highness. We won't hurt you. But you won't be going back until you learn exactly what life here is like for us." She grimaced and lifted the flap to one of the crude tents, and entered, leaving Katherine in the middle of a camp, alone, frightened, and angry.

Lifting the flap, Katherine followed her captor. "What have I to do with this?" She could barely stand upright, but her eyes blazed as she stared down at Ashlea. Ashlea flashed an equally angry glanced at Katherine. "None of this is my fault! And you think punishing me for the ignorant slop that runs things is going to solve anything?" Every muscle in her body tensed, waiting.

Ashlea stood. "You, princess," she spoke the word as if it were poison, "you are more to blame than anyone! You and that sorry excuse for a king!"

Katherine gasped. "How dare you speak of my father that way!"  
Ashlea smirked. "You spoke of mine as an ignorant slop. I thought only to return the favor."

Katherine clenched her teeth. "I had nothing to do with this," she said again. "Nothing."

Ashlea rolled her eyes. "You had everything to do with this. You sat behind your pretty little walls with your pretty little boyfriend and your pretty little gown and you did nothing to help us."

"I didn't even know you existed until you hauled me off!"

"It's comforting to know that you know so much about your own country, Highness. A country you'll one day rule."

Katherine blanched. "No one – no one told me," she stammered.

Ashlea rounded on her. "So just because you live a life of frilly pillows and expensive balls means that you should secluded yourself from the ugly world?" She waved a finger in Katherine's face, forcing her to back away. "You'll rule these people one day. Me! My family! Thousands of others just like me. Life isn't only granted to the wealthy, Katherine.

"There are people who can't afford bread every day. They can't clothe their children properly. They have nothing to live for. And you and your father have done nothing." Ashlea's silver eyes caught a sunbeam slicing through a hole in the tent, giving her a frantic look. "Nothing! We starve to death while your gorge yourself on delicacies. We dress in rags while you are given a new gown every day."

Tears streamed down Katherine's cheeks. "I didn't ask to be born into this life."

Ashlea shook her head. "But you were. And that gives you a certain responsibility. A responsibility that has been terribly neglected." She turned around. "Now get out. You can sleep outside, getting to know your people."

The princess of Ethane nearly tripped on her tattered gown as she pushed herself out of the tent. Her heart pounded with anger.

Was Ashlea right? Had her father neglected the mountain people? Was she really as selfish as Ashlea said? Her words drew certain parallels with the last words Jonathan had spoken to her – that she was spoiled and cared of nothing but herself.

Katherine sank to the ground, her body so weary it couldn't hold her up. Sobs shook her body. All she wanted was to go home. She pulled her knees up and leaned her head down, crying as she'd never cried before. Everything she loved had been taken from her.

She jumped a bit as the tent flap opened behind her. Ashlea stepped around her, leaving her alone. Katherine ignored her captor, focusing on thoughts of home. Slowly darkness surrounded her and she disregarded the rumbling of her stomach. The night grew cold, but Katherine barely noticed. Every thought was trained on her home.

She would give anything to go back to the palace. She would never complain about never stepping foot outside the palace walls again. She never expected it to be like this. And in her father's kingdom! Did Cyrus not know how his people were suffering?

Her compassion didn't outweigh her fear or her anger, however. These people could starve to death, for all she cared! They had stolen her away from everything she knew and loved. What must her mother be thinking right now? Was Cyrus gathering his forces to come look for her? If so, surely it wouldn't be more than a few days before he found her.

But then there was Jonathan. Katherine didn't know if she wanted to go back to a life without him. She had loved him. Loved him more than anything. And now she would never get to tell him! She choked back a sob. She had lost so much, and at the hands of people like Ashlea! The vermin!

All other thought disappeared from her mind as she took into account all she had lost. Sobs wracked her body, but no sound did she utter. She wouldn't give Ashlea and her people the pleasure of once again hearing her anguish.

* * *

Pain burned behind Jonathan's eyes. He rubbed them carelessly, refusing to stop, refusing to let the streams of information sit for even a few hours. He needed to find Katherine. He needed her. 

Where could she be? They'd been searching for days now, and there was still no trace of her. How had the warriors broken through their defenses? Why the orange orchard? Why take Katherine? Had another country attacked? Sattin? Sirue?

No, Ethane kept peace treaties with each one of its neighbors. Ojiri has been known to be hostile in the past, but King Jonah wouldn't think of starting a full scale war just after coming out of a seven year famine.

The Andorran Islands? They would have had perfect access by ocean…but…

No.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Jonathan slammed a fist down on the table, rattling the papers and ink bottle. "Where are you, Kit?

A heavy hand knocked on the door.

"Enter," he croaked. He reached for his goblet of watered wine. Drinking his fill, he said it again. "Enter."

The door opened and several armed men entered, followed by the King. Jonathan began to stand, but Cyrus held his hand up. "Stay as you are, Jonathan." He frowned, looking the younger man over. "Or better yet, go get some rest. You've been at this far too long. I'll take over from here."

Immediately, Jonathan began rummaging through the papers and messages on his desk. "My lord, I can't…"

Cyrus came around the side of the desk and laid a calloused hand on Jonathan's shoulder. He turned him, until Jonathan was looking him full in the face. "Jonathan, I order you, as your King, to get some rest." He smiled at Jonathan's frantic gaze. This man would stop at nothing. "I'll take over from here."

"My Lord…" Jonathan tried one last time. Cyrus silenced him with a glance that would have unfrozen stone, and watched as he slunk out of the room, his shoulder sagging, weary, spent.

As soon as the door closed, Cyrus took Jonathan's seat, rifling through the papers to make sense of the work already done. "Brandon." His guard stepped forward. "These are the intelligence reports?"

Brandon nodded. "Yes, sire. But as you can see, much of it is worthless, a menagerie of rumors, many of which we have discredited."

Cyrus frowned. "These people are good."

"Perhaps we haven't been looking in the right places."

The king glanced at the speaker. Folding his hands on his lap, he asked, "And where else do you suggest we look, Sir Jethro?"

A redheaded man stepped forward, his stance and steady gaze belying his strength and confidence. "You know well, my Lord, that I come from one of the woodland tribes. We have searched all inside the city and the surrounding cities. In less than a week we have managed to completely turn this city and the surrounding cities upside down. From top to bottom. And I don't know how you did it, but even the multitudes of tunnels in and out of city's underlands have been swept clean.

"Still there is no trace of her." Jethro watched the King's mouth tighten. "It might be a good idea to begin searching the Black Forest. The tribes, however, will not be hospitable."

Cyrus nodded, striving for calm. "Everything else has been done. We have watchers throughout the city gates and spies scouring the country. Rewards have been posted, governors all over the country have been notified." He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his ragged, untidy hair. "Have we searched every house, every mansion, every castle, every piece of land between here and the ends of the earth?" He tried, but couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice.

His Captain of the Guard replied, "Yes, sire. We are doing as much as we can. Every resource has been pulled to help us find the princess."

Cyrus stood and slammed his fist down on his desk, making his guards flinch. Several stepped back. "THAT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" Without another word, he strode from the room.


	7. Chapter Six

**Hey, everyone...thanks for all the reviews...i hope you're enjoying this story...i certainly have enjoyed rewriting it...please, if anything isn't right...plot holes, grammar, anything...don't hesitate to tell me...critiques help make me a better writer...so lol i give you permission to be as harsh as you think necessary...although...no flames please!!!

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****Chapter Six**

Katherine woke at dawn to the growling of a discontented stomach. She stared at the patch of mossy grass she had laid her head on. Disgusted, she wiped at her hair, her face, flinging bits of moss and dirt everywhere. Ridding herself as best she could, Katherine shuddered, rubbing her arms for warmth. The sunlight that threaded its first rays through the silhouetted trees gave her little comfort.

Tears flooded her eyes as she glanced around the miserable encampment. Half naked men, raggedly clothed women, and fully naked children were already working hard. Water was gathered. Fires were started.

She wrapped her arms around her knees, glancing up at the sky, just visible between the forest canopies. She refused to cry as the faint pinks of the sunrise gave way to brilliant blues and the darkness gave way to light as the stars twinkled good-bye until another time. Her thoughts blurred together, bringing her back.

_"It's beautiful, isn't it? Such raw beauty?"_

_"You have very pretty eyes."_

_"Let's trade places, Jonathan."_

_"Uncle! Spare me the lecture."_

_"You shouldn't have been so rude to him."_

_"You're worse than the lot of them! I thought you would__understand!"_

_"Katherine! What is wrong with you? I never figured you__for a selfish wench, princess, but you certainly are acting like one__right now!"_

Katherine forced the memories away, clenching her teeth. She was done with tears. Crying obviously brought about nothing but agony. She would be strong. She would honor her father. She opened her silver eyes once more and glanced around. She was startled to find several villagers staring at her. She returned their look stare for stare.

"Hey. You. Princess."

Katherine jumped. An old woman stood behind her, hands on her hips. Katherine scrambled to her feet. The old woman looked her up and down. Katherine did the same in return. Hair that had most likely once been a beautiful chocolate brown now lay nearly white. Cut short is flopped over her forehead.

"Well, I thought there'd be more to you. Looks as if palace air hasn't helped you any." Her beady black eyes regarded her with a hooded gaze. Katherine couldn't have guessed what she was thinking. "Follow me," the old woman said. Katherine didn't move. "Now," the woman snapped. With a jump, Katherine followed the stooping old woman to one of the only decent tents in the entire camp. The woman lowered herself painfully before a smoldering fire and sprinkled a few dry twigs over the glowing wood.

"Sit," she commanded. Katherine glanced around before lowering herself as gracefully as if she were sitting at the King's table, determined to hold onto as much of her birthright as possible. She kept her back stubbornly straight and schooled her features into a mask of feigned courtesy.

The old woman cackled softly. "Oh, my dear. How much you've grown." She pushed a strand of gray hair out of her eyes. "I remember when you were born. Such darkness that night." She clicked her tongue. Her glazed blue eyes studied Katherine with fierce scrutiny. "It's hard to believe you and Ashlea are nearly in your twentieth year. Your father should be here soon. If his hunt went well."

Katherine paled. "You know my father?"

Realization flicked across the woman's creased features. "Not the father you mean, Highness."

"Mistress…"

The woman waved a hand. "My name is Rakel. Call me by my name. Nothing else."

Katherine fought to keep her composure. "My father?"

Rakel paused. When she spoke again, her eyes carried compassion and her scratchy voice held many more years than her body told. "King Cyrus is not your father."

Katherine blinked. "What are talking about?" She was interrupted suddenly by shouts.

"Look, Highness," Rakel pointed.

Grudgingly, Katherine turned. The women and children had dropped what they were doing to gather around the rim of the forest. A group of tall brown-skinned men stepped out from under the cover of the forest. She stared at them, fascinated, as they doled out chunks of animal to rejoicing women and greeted the children in turn. Their skin, permanently tanned by years in the heavy Ethane sun, was painted with dark green and black patterns. Few men wore any type of shirt, and as the women dispersed, she saw, to her embarrassment, even fewer wore much more than a loincloth.

One of them, quite obviously the leader from the way men and women alike offered nods and small bows or respect, looked her way and she heard Rakel raise her hand in greeting. The dark-haired man made his way over to them, stopping but a few feet away. His voice was thick, coming from deep in his chest when he spoke.

"That her? Or is this my Ashlea?"

Katherine stared up at his six foot five frame, greeted by cold blue eyes that made her feel like a mouse about to be eaten by a hawk.

He held up a hand. She hesitated, watching him warily. "Stand up, girl," he commanded.

Ignoring his hand, she obeyed. Gathering her courage, she thought of Jonathan, drawing strength from his memory. Glaring at the man stare for stare, she waited.

The man glanced back at Rakel. "She's a stubborn little thing, isn't she?"

Rakel chuckled. "You have no idea."

He turned back to Katherine. "What's your name, sweet?"

Katherine scowled at the endearment. "You may call me 'Your Highness'."

"Oh, feisty. You must get that from my side of the family." He chuckled. Katherine wanted to hit him. He folded his arms across his naked well–muscled chest. "Your name," he demanded again.

"Princess." Katherine raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge.

Rakel pushed her aside. "Her name is Katherine, sir, and she's been nothing but trouble since she got here."

The man smirked. Katherine clenched her hands into fists. He cocked his head, watching her. "She had her mother's eyes, but for the color," he murmured. He circled her, scrutinizing. "Her nose is mine." He tweaked it. Katherine balked. "Her chin is mine." He moved out of her line of vision.

"Your Highness," came Rakel's voice, "This is Warren Beneksra. He is your father."

Katherine paled. "My father is King Cyrus! How dare you suggest otherwise?"

Warren stared down at his youngest daughter for the first time in nearly two decades. Bitterness urged through him as the one who should not have lived stood before him, leading a royal life while his people starved to death. He took a step toward the girl. She started and stepped back. He glanced at Rakel who shrugged.

"Papa?"

Warren turned at the sound of the voice. "Ashlea." The love in his voice was unmistakable as his daughter walked his way. He pulled her close. He was astounded at how much the two girls looked alike. He could feel Ashlea's tension, anger, hatred as though is radiated from her. His other daughter, however, stood still and silent, brimming with bravado.

Another woman appeared at Warren's side. The woman was taller than Ashlea, but hardly reached Warren's shoulder. Her dark brown eyes held a smile and she held out a hand to the princess. Katherine didn't bother raising a hand in return. She wanted nothing to do with these people.

There was a pause. The woman dropped her hand. Warren scowled. "This is my wife, Rose. Your mother."

Katherine shook her head. "No," she whispered. "I don't believe it."

Warren clenched his teeth. "I am fast growing tired of this behavior, girl."

"Her name is Katherine," Ashlea offered.

"Katherine, then," Warren frowned. "You have no right to treat us as though we are inferior. You were born as low as Ashlea here, as Rakel, as I, myself."

Katherine could not hold her tongue any longer. "And you think highly of yourself. I am the daughter of King Cyrus! Crown Princess of all of Ethane! How dare you…"

"You fool yourself!" Warren shouted. "You weren't born into such place. It was by chance that you even survived."

Rose laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Warren, please. Can't you see she's been through enough? To be taken from her home one day, then to be told you're not who you thought you were the next? It's a lot to take in. She's in shock."

Katherine backed away. She trembled as she watched the exchange. Her mother? Her father? "You can't be my father. My father is…"

Warren looked away from his wife. "I know very well who you think your father is. Mistress Rakel here saw to that." Rakel glanced away from the man's glare. "You were supposed to die that night."

"Warren," Rose gasped.

He ignored her. "You never should have survived! And look! Look around! Because you did, my entire village is in ruins! My family starves as I watch."

"No!" Katherine cried out. Her control shattered and tears flooded her eyes with full force. "I'm not responsible…"

"Not responsible?" Warren stared at her incredulous. "Only one twin is supposed to live! Or havoc is loosed! Chaos reigns! That one night ruined everything. You, the weaker twin, survived and cost me everything!"

She backed away and tripped over a pile of blankets. Scrambling to her feet she ran. She could hear them starting after her, but she didn't care. She pushed people down in her mad rush, but she didn't care. She ran into the forest, alone, without protection or shelter, but she didn't care.

It wasn't enough they had taken away her lifestyle. It wasn't enough they had taken away her parents.

No, Warren was bent on taking away her right to live.

Warren ran to the edge of the forest, watching his daughter get away for the second time. He let her go. If she had any common sense, she'd not stray far. By nightfall, her pitiful cries would bring them to her. He sighed, turning back to what was left of his family.

Rose watched him with anger-filled eyes.

He shrugged. "What?"

She shook her head. "You're still holding onto that stupid superstition?"

"Rose! Look what she's done to this village!"

"She's done nothing! It was the drought, the famine that has cost this village our prosperity. It doesn't help that Siruean bandits have crossed the border, pillaging, stealing. But none of that was

Katherine's doing!"

Warren frowned. "Katherine shouldn't have lived."

Rose's eyes snapped with fury. "How dare you decide who lives and dies! This is your own daughter we are talking about! My daughter!"

He pushed her aside. "Leave me be, woman. I have things to tend to." His tone made it clear that this conversation was over. Rose folded her arms over her chest, barely able to contain her anger.

Ashlea went to her, taking her hand. Rose smiled sadly. "If I had known who she was, if had known what your father intended to do with her, I never would have agreed to have her brought here."

Ashlea raised a brow. "What are you talking about?"

Rose glanced at the ground, shame sweeping through her. "I didn't know until a night ago that Katherine was alive or what your father's plans were. When you were born he told me that the other twin was dead and that we would never speak of it again. But that night, he told me he had found our daughter and that he was bringing her here because the family that had taken her in had deserted her." She shook her head.

"When he told me his real plans, I was appalled. I did everything I did to convince him that they were wrong. But he wouldn't listen." She wiped at a tear that slid down her cheek. "I'm afraid a great many people are going to get hurt."

"Mother, don't you want our village to prosper again? We need food, we need protection. The king wasn't giving us any." Rose heard Warren's words echoed in Ashlea's voice.

Rose cupped her daughter's cheek. "There are so many other ways prosperity can be achieved. We did not need to ruin one girl's life to save ours."

Ashlea felt a loss as Rose drew her hand away and turned and walked away.

* * *

**Don't worry...we'll get back to Jonathan soon : )!**


	8. Chapter Seven

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**ok...so thanks to everyone who review...well the ONE person who reviewed anyway...this chapter may be a little confusing...you'll see why in a moment...but i put "00000" there to break up the sequence...Jonathan thinks Ashlea is Katherine, but we also see Ashlea's reaction in this giant masquerade...does that make sense? (shrug) when i first wrote this out many people were confused so i thought i'd clarify...anyway...i hope you understand it and mostly I hope you enjoy it...thanks!!!**

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**Chapter Eight**

Warren turned not far from where his wife and daughter stood watching his youngest girl get away for the second time. He glanced around, clenching his teeth at the gathering of villagers around them. Prying eyes and ears. He signaled three of the men to go after Katherine. She wouldn't run that far. If she did manage to get away from his warriors, well, her wailing would draw them to her once night fell.

He sighed and glanced at Ashlea. He didn't like the look she had on her face as she watched the warriors push their way through the dense forest brush. Was that compassion he saw in her eyes? No. Warren shook his head. Not Ashlea. She was as war hardened as he, much to his regret. He hadn't wanted this life for his family.

If only Katherine hadn't survived.

He called Ashlea's name and beckoned her over. She looked up at him with wide silver eyes. Pride burst through his heart as he ran a hand over her hair. She had become a very beautiful young woman. He'd had to fight away the young men for some years now. He knew it would only get more difficult to keep the boys away, but, he thought with a smile, it was a challenge he was most willing to take up.

"Tomorrow, you ride for the capital city."

She glanced away, worrying her bottom lip. "Papa, don't you think…" She bowed her head, trailing off.

Warren lifted her chin. "Don't I think what?"  
She took a breath. "Don't you think there's a better way?"

Warren blinked. "For what? We've been planning this for three years. There is no better way. We would have found it by now." He frowned. "Why are you asking?"

She shrugged. "I was talking to Mama and she made a good point. None of this is Katherine's fault. She didn't do anything."  
"That's _my_ point!" Warren growled. "She and that worthless slug she calls a father did _nothing _for us in our time of need! Where was Cyrus when we lost our land to the Siruans? Where was he when our creeks went dry?" He gripped her shoulders, bending until he was eye level. "Cyrus will pay for his neglect. This is the only way we can make him see what we struggle with!"

Ashlea stared wide-eyed at her father, his words sinking in. Slowly, she nodded. "Cyrus will pay. I promise. I'll do whatever it takes." Her eyes hardened and she clenched her jaw in determination.

Warren pulled her close, resting his cheek against her hair. "I know you will."

00000

Jonathan paced the outer wall of the palace courtyard. His eyes scanned the horizon, wishing, hoping for a miracle. He'd thought of nothing but Katherine for the past six days and every second without her was agony.

He replayed his conversation with Cyrus over and over in his mind. Would he take Katherine as his wife? Could he let the heir to the throne marry a man who wouldn't bring anything to the kingdom? Jonathan shook his head. No, it was a princess's duty to marry for the betterment of the kingdom. He'd have to let her go.

But to see her in the arms of another man?

Jonathan grew weak in the knees. He gripped the stone railing for support. "No," he cried. He wouldn't give her up. He already had Cyrus's blessing, why not take it?

But did she love him in return? Pain as physical as a broken bone shot through his chest.

"I should have told her," he muttered bitterly. "I should have told her how I felt." He'd had so many opportunities. He could hear her laugh, see her smile. He longed to once again capture the gaze of those beautiful silver eyes.

He glanced back at the forest. The Black Forest stood impenetrable to the King's Army. Even the Queen's Own, a small group of specialty riders, balked at the thought of entering such undisturbed territory. Rumors and legends abounded about the mountain dwellers, of cannibalistic activities, of pagan rituals. Only the bravest ventured through the trees.

It would have to be taken on foot, but rounding up enough soldiers willing to take on the superstitions of the forest had taken days and his Katherine had been out there for almost a week.

The Crysterian Ocean was being scourged even as he stood there. The merchant's homes and the poor houses had been searched days ago, with no results. Each day the Army and the Riders pressed farther and farther away from the palace in search of the heir to the throne. Each second a precious waste. The only thing left was the Black Forest.

Jonathan sighed and began to turn away from the wall, but movement caught his eyes. A rider, a woman, he could see, galloped hard out of the forest's darkness. Her green hood fell back in the breeze revealing chocolate brown curls flailing behind her. Jonathan watched from above as the woman rode up to the palace, disappearing in the shadow of the walls. Frowning, he signaled two of his men and went to meet the visitor.

The woman's dark horse was lathering in white sweat, evidence of a few hours hard riding. The woman herself looked worse for the wear, thin and dirty, breathing hard.

Jonathan approached. "Excuse me? Do require assistance?" The woman whirled and Jonathan froze. "Katherine?" Was it possible? Her heady silver gaze bore into his, searching him as though she didn't know him. She had the same strong chin, the high cheekbones and the perfectly arched eyebrows of his princess. Her skin was scratched and dirty, her eyes afraid and body trembling.

She took a step away from him as he fought to keep from grabbing her up in his arms, effectively scaring her. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice dripping with poison.

Jonathan balked. "Katherine, it's me. Jonathan!"

In an instant the venom in her expression melted and she flung herself at him. "Oh, Jonathan," she sobbed. "I was so scared!" Her knees went weak and he caught her as she buried her face in his shirt.

Jonathan wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. "I thought I'd lost you," he croaked. His throat closed up as tears well in his eyes. He had her back. His princess was back.

She didn't answer.

00000

Her face hidden in Jonathan's shirt, Ashlea couldn't keep the smile from her face. It was working

00000

Katherine screamed. Noises came at her from every side. Branches reached out in the darkness, snagging on her clothing. Bats and owls whistled overhead, screeching. Footsteps behind her. She kept running. Darkness surrounded her and suddenly she slammed into a sturdy wall of taut muscle and skin. Hands wrapped around her arms, pinning them behind her back. She screamed. A large hand clapped itself over her mouth and nose. She struggled Hard. She couldn't breathe. She fought her captors. The moonlight dimmed as everything went black and one thought penetrated the darkness…

Jonathan!

00000

"Katherine!" The strangled cry made Jonathan look up. Cyrus, pursued by twenty guards raced toward the base of the palace steps where Jonathan and the princess stood.

Jonathan pulled away from Katherine, letting her get a look at her father. She hesitated for a moment, as if she didn't know who she was looking at. Jonathan gave her a slight push and she started running. In the opposite direction.

00000

Ashlea heard Cyrus start running after her. Her heart pounded in time to her rapid footsteps. She couldn't do this! What a terrible lie! What had her father been thinking! She couldn't pull this off! She didn't even know what Cyrus looked like. She only knew he was one of the men pursuing her. How was she to recognize her own 'father'?

"Katherine!" She heard a man call. No! She couldn't do this! She rounded a corner, running as fast as she could

00000

"Kit! What are you doing?" Jonathan cried as he raced after her, Cyrus and his guards not far behind. Cyrus, in desperation to see his only child, lapped him easily for a man his age, and caught Katherine before she could scramble down a ladder leading to a lower alley.

"Katherine! Look at me!" Cyrus spun her around, shaking her shoulders, running his hands over her hair. "What have they done to you? Do you not recognize me?"

Jonathan caught up to them and stood a few feet away, breathing heavily. His heart broke as he watched the exchange. What had the mountain dweller's done to her to make her so afraid of her own father?

Katherine burst into another wave of tears and wrapped her arms around her father. Jonathan wiped at his own tears as he heard her wrenching cries, "I was so scared."

00000

Ashlea grimaced as she let Cyrus pull her close. There was no going back now. She had promised she'd help bring change to her village. If masquerading as the king's daughter, then so be it. She just hoped these men were thickheaded enough to believe her actor's cries.


End file.
